As a brand-new member of The West Towns Barbershop Chorus, I am currently working on a jaw-dropping piece called “The South Rampart Street Parade.” Do you hear the beat? Way down the street? Do you hear the neat little rhythm of the happy dancin’ feet? Well look, there, the people are runnin’ And right now they’re gonna have a lot of fun! Make way, ‘cause everybody’s comin’ and you’ll see a big parade… Also being a brand-new painter, I’ve been humming snatches of this tune while whitewashing a big picket fence in Wheaton the last couple days. And thinking about parades. As far as I can see, a parade is the greatest institution created by man. You can watch it go by, and cheer for whoever or whatever the parade is honoring. Or just cheer for the parade. No one cares why you’re cheering; that’s the best part. The second option, of course, is to join the parade. Everyone who really really wants to, will figure out a way to jump into any good parade. Crashing a parade shows the sincerest support possible. It says “I will make a complete fool of myself before I even consider standing aside to watch.” This takes courage and humility. You are exposed and vulnerable; they can throw you out; this is why no adult can do it, and why no child can resist. A week ago, I followed Molly out to tend the horses. In the waning sunlight, we noticed a large and rather warlike company of crimson clouds. When I pointed them out, Molly recounted: “I was on a trail ride with Rosie when I was little. It was a brilliant sunset, and there were all these huge fiery clouds. Rosie said to me ‘See those clouds, Molly? One day, Jesus will come back here, and he’ll be riding on the clouds. So if you look up in the sky one day, and you see him coming down, and he asks you to ride with him… which horse are you going to ride?’ I just think that’s so cool.” “Which horse was it?” “What horse did I pick? Oh, I don’t remember… I probably picked one that’s old and fat now, like RB. Today, it would be Caspian; he’d be so cool and nothing would faze him.” “Which horse can I ride?” “You should ride Lady; she likes you.” “Sounds good.” Every boy’s got a girl (They’re doin’ it, Soft-shoein’ it) The town’s gonna whirl (They’re tryin’ it, Untyin’ it) Tonight’s (They’re drivin’ it, Revivin’ it) The Jamboree (I TELL YOU) And if you come along, (They’re struttin' it, Rug-cuttin’ it) You'll join in the song…. (They’re shakin’ it, And breakin’ it) Hey Dad (Hey Dad) Not bad (Not bad) I’m glad that (I’m glad) You’re diggin’ all those TROMBONES…. And so on. As I painted, I thought with a smile what it might be like, to ride out with the Good Lord, from the back of the old barn… all the while with this “Parade” song stuck in my head. Every boy’s got a girl, the town’s gonna whirl Tonight’s the Jamboree And if you come along, you'll join in the song…. I noticed that the beauteous vision of a little kid finding a makeshift disguise and slipping into the marching band of the grand, rambunctious parade, beaming at his shy and jealous friends on the sidewalk, made my eyes burn in the same way as Molly’s “little apocalyptic equestrians” story did. When they were side by side, their similarity surprised me. Now someone would ask: what do these two crazy ideas have in common? I might suggest that they have everything in common. I suggest that the only way to ride out with the Great Teacher and Judge is to screw your inhibitions and go for it. I suggest that to ride to the Kingdom, you must take yourself lightly. And I suggest that to enter it, you’ll have to become like a little child. It ain’t fast (it ain't fast) and it ain’t slow, (oh, it ain't too slow) But oh, that [CLAP] Glory, Hallelujiah! Sway, sway, sway (Ain’t it funny how they sway) the way they play, the way they play (Just the way they play) Makes a body wanna stay (Makes a body wanna stay) Wanna stay all day (Wanna stay all day) Hush my mouth, hush my mouth, yeah! (Hush my mouth, yeah!) That’s that South (They’re struttin’ it, rug-cuttin’ it) Rampart Street, Rampart Street (Revivin’ it, they’re drivin’ it) PARADE! Hush my mouth! Lordy, that’s the South (Oh, my Lordy, that’s the South) Rampart Street (How I love the beat) That beat (The beat of that Rampart Street) Parade, (They’re shakin’ it,) Parade, (and breakin’ it) Parade, (They’re swayin’ it) Parade, (I’m sayin) I STILL HEAR THE BEAT! THAT SOUTH RAMPART STREET PAAAAAAA- RAAAAAAAAAA (Lordy, how I love to hear ‘em play!) AAAAAAAAAAA (Makes a body want to stay all day!) AAAAAAAAAAA-AAA-AAA- (South rampart street PAAA-AAA-AAAA) RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADE! I really like this song. So then, shall the World end with a bang? A whimper? Or a big, bloody parade? Food for thought... we’ll find out soon enough anyhow. See you there. | 
